Chapter 042: Stirring Up Trouble

Upon returning to Bodhi Temple, Xie Guanglong had already arrived with his modest luggage. Li Zaixing welcomed him, instructing Zhang Wan to go ahead and reserve a banquet at Yang Lair's house in Zhongqu. Since the ownership of Pingkang Lane was transferring from Xie Guanglong to him, it was time to make a formal appearance, especially to greet the military constables of Pingkang Lane. The official handover of control required notifying the authorities—an inevitable necessity.

Unless absolutely necessary, those on the dark side would never actively provoke the authorities.

The constables of the military post were somewhat disgruntled, having been thoroughly beaten by Li Zaixing at Zheng Juju’s house the previous day. Their resentment was simmering without an outlet, and they were pondering how to settle the score with Li Zaixing. Unexpectedly, he had already taken over Pingkang Lane, and even Xie Guanglong counted himself as his brother. There was nowhere left to seek revenge. Thankfully, Li Zaixing sent Zhang Wan with a generous amount of medical compensation and invited them to a banquet at the Yang family’s that evening, granting them considerable honor. Awkward though it was, they accepted.

Once Zhang Wan had been sent to arrange the feast and invite the constables, Li Zaixing took Xie Guanglong to the martial grounds. The warrior monks, originally quite relaxed, straightened up at the sight of Li Zaixing and began practicing grappling techniques with meticulous discipline. Xie Guanglong watched with a cheerful smile, clearly unimpressed.

“With just these men, how could the Bodhi Temple ever be properly protected?”

“Their foundation is too weak. We must proceed step by step,” Li Zaixing replied with a smile. “I’ve devised a training plan, but have little time to supervise them myself. I wonder if you’d be interested in helping? If you’re willing, I can offer you a salary from the temple.”

Xie Guanglong stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Your plan? Let me hear it.”

Li Zaixing explained his training regimen—a combination of the physical training methods from his previous life and the military drills of this era. The emphasis was on physical conditioning and teamwork, with less focus on weapon skills, and martial techniques were geared toward subduing rather than killing. He wasn’t training the monks to fight wars but to maintain order; battlefield slaughter had no place here.

After hearing Li Zaixing’s reasoning, Xie Guanglong was intrigued, though he understood the logic. After all, monk-soldiers were not warriors in the truest sense and were unlikely to see battle. If they had enough stamina to subdue unruly youths, that was sufficient—serious injury would only cause trouble. Still, he believed that to contend with other temples and monasteries, they’d need some who could truly fight.

Li Zaixing seized the opportunity, requesting Xie Guanglong to gather his own followers for advanced training. Those young knights were already bold and combative; if their coordination could be improved, they would quickly become a formidable force.

Xie Guanglong agreed, but noted that his men preferred drinking and meat and might not be comfortable staying at the temple permanently. Better to have them lodge at Qujiang Pool for now and summon them when needed, with the temple providing a stipend for their daily needs.

Li Zaixing did not press the matter and informed Juehui. Upon hearing that a sum of money could recruit dozens of young fighters, ensuring the temple’s security and providing leverage against rivals, Juehui felt it was well worth the cost and agreed to consult with the abbot and temple master.

While instructing the warrior monks in their drills, Li Zaixing also sparred with Xie Guanglong and found him to be truly skilled—not only in hand-to-hand combat, but also a rare archer, able to draw a heavy bow and hit seven out of ten arrows at a hundred paces. Such a warrior, forced to forgo a military career for lack of travel funds, was truly a pity.

...

By late afternoon, the monks’ training was over. Li Zaixing and Xie Guanglong returned to the western courtyard to change clothes. Since Aiermaidi’s leg was still unhealed, Li Zaixing left the dependable Julia to care for her, bringing Hestia along instead. Hestia, excited, dressed carefully, belted on her newly purchased crescent-bladed sword, and strode out brimming with confidence.

Mitra, disguised as a young boy, sat in front of Hestia. Since Xie Guanglong had no horse, Li Zaixing offered one of the animals he had bought that morning for Aiermaidi and her companions.

Surrounded by attendants, they left the quarter, turned left at the crossroads in the heart of the neighborhood, and arrived at the entrance of the Wanan Monastery. Li Zaixing presented his calling card and requested an audience with Wang Xun. According to Li Mi’s plan, provoking and needling Wang Zhun was essential, and Wang Xun was the perfect bait.

Wang Xun was reading and chatting with his wife, Lady Li, in an upstairs room at the back of the house. Hearing that Li Zaixing sought an audience, he was surprised.

“What sort of man is this Li Zaixing?” he asked.

“We just met at the banquet yesterday,” Wang Xun replied, briefly recounting the previous day’s events. He smiled, “Though rough and uncultured, he’s rather loyal. Had he not intervened, I would have suffered another humiliation at Wang Zhun’s hands yesterday.”

Lady Li, reciting Li Zaixing’s poem on Mount Lu, laughed and shot Wang Xun a glance. “Rough and uncultured? I think his literary talent is no worse than yours—perhaps even better.”

Wang Xun laughed heartily and did not argue. Rubbing his brow, he said, “Should I go meet him or not? He’s probably here to ask me to mediate with Wang Zhun, but though we are related, there’s little real kinship.”

Lady Li shook her head. “I doubt that’s it. If he were timid, he wouldn’t have stood up for you yesterday, and when he had the chance to call it a draw, he chose to humiliate Wang Zhun further.”

Wang Xun was taken aback. “Then what do you think?”

“Go see him. He helped you out of a tight spot—you can’t be seen as too cowardly.”

Wang Xun blushed and agreed, heading downstairs to the front hall, where Li Zaixing and his party were shown in and seated. Li Zaixing explained his purpose—having learned the art of pitch-pot from Wang Xun the previous day, he now wished to treat him to wine in gratitude and to make his acquaintance.

Though the son of a princess and married to a noblewoman, Wang Xun was mild-mannered and not particularly ambitious, his official career currently stalled, leaving him at home with little to do. The prospect of a drinking party appealed to him.

Without much persuasion, Wang Xun agreed and, after informing his wife, set out with a young attendant. When he saw Mitra, he looked twice. Li Zaixing asked, “Brother Wang, do you favor foreign boys?”

“Oh, yes. Is this a boy or a girl?”

“Do you prefer boys or girls?” Li Zaixing pressed.

Wang Xun was momentarily startled, then burst out laughing. “Actually, it’s not for me—my wife is fond of little foreign girls, says they’re beautiful and different from us Tang people. What’s her name?”

Li Zaixing, pleased, signaled Mitra. She caught on and replied in a clear child’s voice, “My foreign name is Mitra, my Chinese name is Cao Mite, and my nickname is Bug-girl.”

“So she really is a little girl,” Wang Xun laughed. “Funny enough, my wife’s favorite little foreign girl is also called Bug-girl and looks quite similar to her.”

“In that case, let her pay her respects to your wife one day and bring some good luck.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Wang Xun agreed cheerfully, nodding repeatedly. Yet Li Zaixing felt a pang of guilt. Approaching Wang Xun was Li Mi’s idea—since he and Wang Zhun were at odds, befriending Wang Xun would further provoke Wang Zhun. But now it was clear things were far from coincidental, and Li Mi must have known Wang Xun’s wife was acquainted with Bug-girl. Not only was Wang Xun a pawn in this scheme, but his wife as well.

What unsettled Li Zaixing even more was that Li Mi had clearly not revealed all his intentions. Though he knew they were using each other, the realization still left him uncomfortable.

When they arrived at the Yang household, Wei Yingwu was already there, idly chatting with Yang Miaor. After her humiliation yesterday and a bout of weeping, Yang Miaor’s eyes were still a bit swollen. Seeing Li Zaixing and Wang Xun enter side by side, she stood up, offered a formal greeting, but said nothing, her chin raised in stubborn silence.

Yang Lair shot her sister a look and stepped forward warmly. “You’ve come, sir. Sorry for yesterday’s poor hospitality. Today, whatever you wish—music or dance—my sister and I will do our best to please you.”

Li Zaixing laughed. “Yesterday, Wei Sanlang was host, and I was struck by your spacious home and lovely scenery. That’s why I’m imposing today—to return the favor. Besides Wei Sanlang and Brother Wang, there are a few friends from the road, and soon some constables will join us as well. I hope you’ll show your skills and spare me any embarrassment.”

“Of course, of course.” Yang Lair pulled her sister over and scolded playfully, “Miaor, keep Sir company while I make the arrangements. Since Sir honors our house by entertaining guests here, we mustn’t neglect our duties.” With that, she pushed Yang Miaor into Li Zaixing’s arms, covered her mouth with a laugh, and glided away.

Li Zaixing unceremoniously embraced Yang Miaor and raised his eyebrows at the suddenly tense Wei Sanlang. “Wei Sanlang, I know what you’re thinking. If you’d like to play the gallant, that’s not hard—show some real skill. If Miaor takes a liking to you, perhaps you’ll be invited to stay the night.”

“So I’m really that unlikable? Are you in such a hurry to push me away?” Yang Miaor’s eyes welled up, tears threatening again.

“Nonsense!” Li Zaixing laughed heartily. “If Wei Sanlang wants to compete, I can’t stop him. But am I someone who gives up easily? Yesterday, I missed the chance to get close because of pressing matters, but tonight I came to make up for it. If he doesn’t give it his all, how could he possibly stand a chance?”

There is no woman who doesn’t enjoy being fought over by men. Hearing this, Yang Miaor’s anger melted into delight. She winked at Wei Yingwu and teased, “Wei Sanlang, are you willing to fight for me?”

Wei Yingwu stood tall and declared, “Since you challenge me, how could I not accept? Even if I lose, let it be a glorious defeat. If you won’t give in easily, neither will I. Name your contest—pitch-pot, chess, cuju, polo, I’m game for all. Just not poetry—I’m as hopeless as you there, and not as quick-witted. If it’s verse, I must concede and yield Miaor to you. Not for lack of will, but for lack of ability.”

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